


Rock Bottom

by PepperPrints



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RE5 AU. To save his partner's life, Chris takes the fall at the Spencer Estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> For the 30_kisses challenge. Prompt: the sound of waves.

Wesker should have expected Chris to resort to such pointless heroics.

 

The moment his partner was threatened, Chris seemed to lose all rational thought. He did not take the time to realize that compared to all the things Wesker had survived, a little fall would do him precious little damage. That hardly seemed to matter to the man at all; all he cared for was the safety of his companion. The moment Wesker's hand closed around Jill Valentine's throat, the man became a senseless fool.

 

Wesker woke to the sensation of rain beating down against his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, lashes fluttering as the world came back into focus. His glasses had been lost in the fall, and he could feel his body mending itself back together with relative ease. There was no harm, and Chris's dramatics were all for nothing. However, he would commend the man for his dedication: Chris still had his arms locked around Wesker's body in a vice grip. His head was tucked against Wesker's chest, his hair plastered against his head from the rain, and it was impossible to tell how much of him had been injured from the fall. Regardless of the damage, he had clung to Wesker all the way down, ensuring that they hit bottom together.

 

And they truly had. The cliffs were tall, towering above them, and the estate could not even be seen at this distance. With his gaze turned upward, all Wesker could see was the night sky and the storm clouds. Jill would come looking, but there was no way to go down this far except for the doomed path that he and Chris had taken. Even if she came further down the cliff, all she would see was darkness, and the water.

 

Wesker then became suddenly aware of how close they had fallen to the water's edge, and that his clothes were damp from more than just the rain. The storm was sending heavy waves crashing against the edge of the cliffs, spilling over their fallen bodies. How easily he could have been washed away under the tide while unconscious... Wesker seemed to have Chris's extra weight to thank for keeping them from being caught in the water. Another wave came over them, cold and harsh, and Wesker felt Chris's body tense up under the assault, shuddering at the freezing cold of the icy water.

 

Ah. So he wasn't quite dead yet.

 

Wesker pushed Chris from him as he rose up to his feet. Chris was too damaged to resist when Wesker moved him, rolling onto his back heavy as a stone. Chris made a desperate, choked attempt at breath, and his body shuddered brokenly. It wasn't really breathing at all, just a rasping, painful struggle: the last reflexes of a dying body clinging to the thinning threads of life, and it was almost too weak to be heard over the sound of the waves. Another wave crashed over Chris's trembling body, causing him to rattle out a choking gasp, and Wesker glanced down at him, contemplative. He would be washed away here, having died for nothing at all, and no one would find his body. It seemed to be such an unfitting end, after all that had transpired between them.

 

Such a pity.

 

Wesker turned to take a step away, and a tight hand snatched around his ankle. Chris's eyes were suddenly open, bloodshot but focused, staring up at him with that same stubborn defiance. He tried to make a sound, but his strangled throat would not accommodate it, and he spat up blood. It dripped from the corners of his mouth, black and inky, and his fingers trembled, losing their grip. Whatever will it was that gave Chris's dying body that last burst of strength seemed to have died out as quickly as it came. A limp hand was left hanging loosely against Wesker's boot, and Chris's eyes were fluttering again, threatening to permanently shut. Wesker's lips curved down, his foot slowly pulling away from Chris's seeking fingers.

 

Pointless heroism.

 

Wesker knelt down, eyes focused on Chris's face. The rain was pouring down on him, washing away most of the blood, but Chris's sputtering attempts at breaths continued to spit up more. Chris was stubborn to the end, as he always was. Even now, he managed to summon up the will to glare up at Wesker with that same defiance, the same hate. His will really was that powerful, that loyalty and devotion; Wesker could not help feeling admiration of it. It would be such a waste...

 

His gloved hand slipped down to cup Chris's jaw, fresh pain shooting across his face when Wesker tipped his head up. What would Chris say, he wondered, were he capable of speaking. It would likely be some bold accusation or promise to be the end of him.

 

This would, however, be Chris's end, and it felt so unsatisfying. His sentiment had been his defeat, and perhaps that itself was not misguided, if it could be...redirected. Chris always was so stubborn, surviving far beyond what any ordinary human should, all due to that strength of will. That power had been on Wesker's side once, years ago when Chris was under his command, and that had made Chris one of his best men. He had been willing to die for Wesker then, the same way he gave himself up for Jill now.

 

It could be that way again.

 

Wesker let his gaze drift to Chris's lips. They were trembling from the pain and the cold, damp with rainwater and blood, and Wesker covered them with his own.

 

Chris gave another shuddering fit, choking underneath him, and Wesker muffled the noise. His tongue slipped out, catching the blood and the taste of the rain. Chris jerked beneath him, coughing out a death rattle, and his gaze lost focus.

 

Wesker paid it little mind; Chris wouldn't die yet. He would make sure of that. He maintained the light, gentle pressure of the kiss, keeping their mouths close as if to breathe the life back into Chris's body from his own.

 

“That will is now mine,” he murmured, the sound lost under the waves, but swallowed up by Chris's shuddering inhale.


End file.
